The Crucifixion
by Kazo Sakamari
Summary: The first event in a series of events that force James and Sirius to turn their backs on humanity.
Just an odd little story that popped into my head the other day. Hope you like it.

Leave a review and let me know what you think! Pretty please?

* * *

The cigarette smoke stung his eyes and James shifted his weight, turning his head to look at his best friend.

"We've got to go soon."

"Be quiet James."

James fell silent and watched Sirius take the last few drags on his cigarette before smudging it into the ground with his boot, leaving a little black mark on the concrete.

The air was cold and clear and James took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes hard before shoving them back onto his face. Sirius glanced over, reaching out with his pale hand and straightened them with a teasing smirk on his face.

"Ready to face God?"

"If only."

It was an old joke that was joke to everyone but Sirius. An inside joke that existed solely in the minds of the Marauders. The headquarters of the Order were constantly changing, constantly moving and more than once James has missed a meeting because he'd gone to the wrong place. The wrong room, the wrong building, the wrong city. It was complicated, but it was the price they paid for safety. Or the price Dumbledore paid for safety.

Dumbledore, the man who lorded over them. He was their modern day God and Sirius detested it. Which wasn't a surprise, Sirius hated authority. Sirius hated Dumbledore. Hated the ministry. Hated everyone, everything these days.

James had turned it into a joke in order to make it through the day with Sirius and Sirius went along with it, but James knew that deep down Sirius didn't think it was a joke. At all.

They stepped into the room together, a few minutes late and Sirius grimaces as all eyes refocused on him.

The Black.

The black sheep.

The pureblood boy who laughs at all the wrong things in a cold haughty way.

James scowls and hates that people think of Sirius like that and takes a seat at the table while Sirius leans against the wall behind him, protecting James' back even when they're surrounded by aurors. Because Sirius trust no one and no one trusts Sirius. Lily is at the back of the room and she smiles at him, softly and sweetly and James savors it for a moment before Sirius kicks his chair, bringing him back to reality.

The topic is Death Eaters, the War, Voldemort, the same shit. It's always the same shit and James rests his head on the palm of his hand and can feel Sirius' thoughts inside him.

 _Different day, same shit._

James glances back, twisting slightly in his chair so he can see Sirius in his peripheral vision and they share a smirk.

After the meeting is over, with Moody and Dumbledore, once again refusing to trust them because 'they're just kids,' James stands and weaves through the crowd to his girlfriend, feeling Sirius' eyes on his back. Somewhere, hidden in the grown adults of the room are Peter and Remus but James isn't concerned about them. He'll see them later.

Lily smiles at him and starts to talk, to tell him about her day, about her life, but he's not listening. He's rarely listening. Instead, he's focused on Sirius and Sirius' thoughts that are flooding his head and he turns and looks and there Sirius is, face hard and haughty as Dumbledore and Moody corner him by the door. James watches as Sirius' lips twitch and his jaw tighten and tunes his girlfriend out putting all his focus onto Sirius and listens to Sirius in his head.

"What you're doing is completely unacceptable Black."

"It's dangerous Sirius."

"If you don't stop this Black, you'll be fucking crucified."

"You can't take the war into your own hands, you can't play God."

The world slows down for a second and Sirius' eyes flicker over to his and James knows that Sirius knows. The moment breaks and the connection breaks and time comes rushing back and Lily looks at him with her pretty green eyes.

"Are you listening to me James?"

"Of course Lils."

On the other side of the room Sirius scowls, then smirks and stalks out of the room without comment and James skillfully steers his girlfriend after him.

* * *

It started with Snape. Like so many things started. If it wasn't for Snape, they might not even be friends. It's the only reason James gives Snape a second thought now. Because without Snape, he might not have Sirius.

It started with Snape, at night, when they were seventeen. Just months after they graduated and Sirius was drunk and high and naked from the waist up on James' couch and he confessed to murder.

Or attempted murder.

"I lied Prongs." He slurred as he propped himself up on his elbows and stared into James' soul. "I wanted to fucking kill him. I wanted Snape to die."

And James had laughed then, because he was drunk and high too and because he already fucking knew this. He'd always known.

His best friend was a cruel, cold, miscalculating murderer and James accepted that. His best friend was Sirius Black and despite however hard he tried, Sirius was a Black to his core. And James accepted that.

Sirius was loyal. Sirius loved him. Sirius was all he had.

And he was all Sirius had.

And Sirius had thrown in his chips with James. It was them against the world.

And James accepted that.

So it started with Snape. And with Sirius' 'failure' to murder Snape. And with James' list of people who were worse than Snape.

And with James giving Sirius 'permission' to sic them.

It was a game they played. Where Sirius was Padfoot and James was Prongs. And then went out and rid the world of evil.

Killed people who needed to be killed.

Death Eaters, politicians, purebloods, reporters, supporters. Anyone.

If 'God' wouldn't trust them to help the Order, to fight the war, they would fight the war on their own. And they did.

They waged their own war. And so far, they were winning.

* * *

The sheets were tangled around his body and the duvet was heavy, holding him down, suffocating him as his tossed and turned. The world was numbed by sleep and by the hot heavy air around him and James pressed his face into his pillow. He could hear Lily, breathing slow and calm and feel the mattress sink where her body lay and he tried to go back to sleep. Tried to force himself back into the lullaby dream, the heavy dark place that he ached to be in.

But he couldn't.

There was a terror. A fear. A cold quality. Like a thin layer of ice over his skin that he couldn't get rid of and it lingered in the back of his mind as he tried to remember what he was dreaming about.

A forest. A lake. The cold. Snow. He got glimpses of it. Of the dream that had seemed so real when he was dreaming it. There was cold and pain and metal and laughter. James squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to fall back to sleep.

The gentle claws of sleep were dragging him down, slowly but surely when he felt it. The pain. Digging into his hands and his feet and his lungs were burning and his grey eyes were open wide and his mouth opened wide and he screamed.

James opened his mouth and screamed.

Shooting up in bed he clapped a hand to his mouth and struggled to detangle himself from the sheets and Lily stared at him with her wide green eyes.

"What's wrong?" She gasped, fumbling for her wand on the bedside table but James was already up and moving.

"Sirius." He gasped out and Lily stared at him.

The room was shrouded in darkness and she peered at his ghostly silhouette in the doorway as he tugged a jumper over his head and stumbled around in the shadows.

"It was just a bad dream James…"

He stares at her and she can just barely make out his golden hazel eyes.

"No. It wasn't."

He doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't even know if this is going to work but he slams the door of his apartment without meaning too and disapperates on the spot with only a blurry mental image in his mind.

He half expects to splinch himself. Half expects to be cut in half, lost in another dimension but he is whole and breathing and has all his limbs as he stands on the ice covered lake.

The dark forest looms out at him, the moon reflecting light off the white snow and James shivers as he stares at the blurry world around him, he's missing his glasses but it's not like it matters.

He doesn't know where he is. Doesn't know what he's doing.

But this is the place.

From his dream.

This is it.

Right here.

He shivers and closes his eyes and tries to fall back into it. Into the darkness. The half asleep state. He closes his eyes and listens to the silence.

He's not sure how long he stands there but the cold seeps into his cheap sneakers and his flannel pajama pants brush the snow on the ground.

And then he feels it.

The pain running through his body. The trembling fear in his chest. The laugher in his ears. The burning in his lungs.

A scream pierces the air and James' eyes snap open.

He stands stock still, only just realizing that he'd also left his wand at home.

The scream dies and he stands there, peering at the dark trees trying to figure out what direction it came from.

There is utter silence for a minute before another echoing scream fills the empty forest. It's tragic and tortured and it warbles in the air.

James feels his heart breaking in his chest and starts to walk.

The cold is seeping into his legs, numbing his feet and he really wishes he had his wand right now.

He walks toward the thick wall of trees at the edge of the frozen lake and tries to listen.

His heart is pounding. Blood rushing in his ears. Pain thrumming through his body.

It hurts.

It hurts in his head.

Another scream sounds. Pain filled and desperate and dying. James feels his heart breaking and keeps walking toward the sound. The sound of his best friend dying.

The trees are dark and dangerous looking, with sharp needles and rough bark and it's dark and he trips over the roots hidden under the snow and feels the skin on his hands tear and he keeps walking.

Because Sirius is dying.

He closes his eyes and he can see it. See the circle of trees. The moon glowing bright and white in the dark sky. The stars glittering. The snow tinged pink from the blood. The branches on the ground. The black robes and the masks.

He can see it.

There's laugher and James freezes. Unsure if it's in his head or if he's really hearing it.

There's laughter and it's high and cold and cruel and then Sirius screams again and James sinks to his knees at the sounds of it.

The snow is cold and clings to the soft flannel of his pants and James presses his hands to his face and closes his eyes.

It hurts.

The scream dies abruptly and James flinches. Pulling himself up from the ground.

He starts walking. He has to keep walking.

It's dark and cold and James is numb. His body is numb from the cold and the cuts and he can't feel anything anymore.

There's laughter and pain and blood and his chest is burning and his eyes are blurred with tears and he can't-

He keeps walking.

He doesn't know how long it's been. How long he's been out here. How long he's been away.

The trees are dark and the snow is bright and the moon is the only light in the sky and he keeps walking. Through the cold.

It takes him a moment to recognize the scene. To recognize the place.

The circle of trees. The moon glowing bright and white in the dark sky. The stars glittering. The snow tinged pink from the blood. The branches on the ground.

James stands there, at the edge of the trees and stares at Sirius.

At his best friend.

At Sirius Black.

The boy who trusts no one and who no one trusts.

His slim, angular body has been stripped naked and nailed to a cross. A makeshift cross of a tree, the branches littered on the ground. His arms spread out, blood gleaming black where the nails were hammered into his hands. His head dropped onto his chest, black hair falling into his closed eyes, wet and clumped and tangled. His feet nailed to the base of the tree.

 _Blood Traitor._

Carved into his chest.

Black blood.

James stood there and stared at Sirius.

The modern day martyr.

Dying because of a modern day God.

 _They fucking crucified him._

A small sound escapes his throat. It's small and scared sounding, a little pain filled whimper and he stumbled toward Sirius. His limbs heavy and lead like.

"Fuck."

" _Fuck."_

Sirius' skin is ice cold and his eyes are closed and James slaps him. _Hard._ But there's nothing and James doesn't even-

"Fuck."

He doesn't have his wand. He doesn't have fucking anything.

He tugs at the nails that have been pounded through Sirius' hands and he can't. He can't-

"Fuck."

He digs his fingers under the thin metal edge and pulls but it's stuck hard and his fingertips are screaming and angry red and it hurts and fuck. He tries again and screams as he feels his skin break but it moves and he wipes the blood on his pants and tries again and again and again and pulls, sinking his feet into the snow and pushing against the tree and his own fingernails rip back and he screams but the nail eases out of the branch and Sirius falls forward limply and James catches him, nearly collapsing under the dead weight.

He struggles to shift Sirius' limp body around as he uses the nail he just pulled out to pry the other nail out of Sirius left hand. Silently apologizing to his friend as Sirius' skin tears and bleeds as James digs the metal into his flesh to pry the second nail out.

But it's easier with the leverage of the nail and it takes a while and some pulling and tugging and cursing but the nail comes free and Sirius collapse entirely onto James and James curses as he realizes he should have started with the feet but fuck it.

"Fuck."

The last nails comes free quickest and James loses his grip on Sirius, blood slicked on his hands and the naked man topples over onto the snow and James curses.

Sirius' blood is black and sticky and covers the front of James' jumper and he tugs Sirius' limp body up and clings to him tightly before closing his eyes and focusing clearly on the hallway outside of Sirius' apartment before disapperating.

There's a pop and James ignores the churning in his stomach and opens his eyes and immediately feels the warmth of the building rushing over his skin and he fumbles for a moment, wondering where Sirius' key is because Sirius is naked and _fuck._

But then he remembers Sirius is a paranoid freak who's into freaky shit, because only Sirius Black would link his wards to his own blood and the Marauders blood. Because after everything Sirius has this weird thing about blood, not necessarily pureblood blood, but just his own blood and the Marauders learned that long ago and just deal with it now. So James presses his bloody palm against the door and watches as the wards that Sirius set up flicker gold and green, just like James' hazel eyes before the lock clicks and James stumbles into the room, half carrying half dragging Sirius into the bathroom where he dumps him unceremoniously onto the shower floor.

Stripping off his clothes James kicks Sirius' limp body around slightly to make room for himself and turns the water on. It comes out burning hot, because Sirius charmed it too, and James flinched when it hits his skin. It feels like his limbs are on fire as he starts to regain warmth and feeling and he grimaces and groans and savors the moment for a second before kneeling down and working at moving Sirius till he's leaning against the cold tile wall.

The hot water hits Sirius, washing the blood down the drain in a pale pink trail and James curls up next to him trying to clean the carved words on his chest and the small holes in his hands and feet as best he can.

Because of Sirius' genius the water never runs out, never gets cold and James looses track of how long he's been crouched under the burning spray before Sirius' eyes flutter open.

Red rimmed and uncertain.

Pain filled.

Liquid silver eyes.

They lock onto James' hazel eyes for a long moment before they slide shut again and James lets out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding in.

Sirius was alive.

Still alive.

Sirius would be okay.

Because James would make sure he would be okay.

The water pounded onto their cold skin and Sirius' fingers twitched and he grasped James' hand in a loose grip and James stared at Sirius.

At the words carved into his chest.

At the holes in his hands.

At the pale skin and the dark circles and dripping black hair.

He had never loved anyone as much as he loved Sirius.

He had never loved anyone in the same way that he loved Sirius.

His pain was James' pain.

His scream was James' scream.

His life was James' life.

The water sprayed down onto their cold skin, mixing with their blood and swirling around the drain and James gripped Sirius tightly. Tugging the taller man to him, afraid to let him go.

* * *

Sirius lies on the couch while James kneels on the floor, bandages and rubbing alcohol and essence of deity in little glass bottles cluttered around him.

He grimaces as he sees the damage he himself did to Sirius' hands and takes the paper towel soaked in alcohol and presses it to the flayed flesh.

"Fuck." Sirius hisses and James gives him a tight smile but Sirius' eyes are still closed. As soon as he's done James wipes the blood away and takes a drop of deity and watches as Sirius' flesh sews itself back together before bandaging it tightly.

"You're shite at this." Sirius mutters and James scowls.

"Fuck off."

"I was joking."

"I know."

They fall silent again as James moves to the next hand and Sirius hisses in pain, biting down on his lip hard.

"Fucking family."

"What?" James mummers as he bandages the hand tightly and glances at Sirius.

"Bella."

Sirius gestures with his bandaged hands to his chest, where the carved words are still bleeding despite everything James has tried.

"She…?"

"Mum put a price on my head." Sirius whispers, "Bella took… _pity_ on me."

He says it in such a way that James knows Sirius truly believes his cousin feels pity for him, truly believes Bellatrix was doing what she should have done and James frowns but says nothing for a long moment.

"Regulus?"

"No…"

It makes them both feel better, if only slightly, that Regulus is still untainted by all of this, to some degree. James moves onto the bloody mess that is Sirius' feet.

"You're going to be okay." He says, even though he really isn't sure anymore.

He hasn't been sure that any of them are going to be okay after this war. Not for a long time.

"Of course." Sirius whispers, playing the game just like James wants him too.

James stares for a long time at the words carved into his best friend's chest, knowing that if he wasn't in Sirius' life, those words wouldn't be there. It makes him sick. Makes him angry. Makes him want to murder someone. The image of Sirius, limp and dying, hanging from an improvised cross in the snowy forest flashes across his mind. Filling up his eyes and his head and for a moment James can't think, can't breathe. He gives up on Sirius' chest entirely, no matter what he does the words won't stop bleeding and he's starting to think there's some sort of magic, some curse involved here, a factor he isn't seeing so he just bandages it. Watches the blood seep through the white bandages and slumps next to Sirius on the couch.

"We're going to be okay." He finally says.

He can feel Sirius' skin, hot and damp on his and he can smell Sirius' hair, like lavender, and his soap and the rubbing alcohol and just Sirius.

They sit there, tired and exhausted and bleeding and hopeless. But together.

"We're going to be okay." Sirius says, mirroring James and he lays his head on James shoulder and James rests his head on Sirius' and they lay there, eyes open wide. Too tired to sleep.

Too traumatized to live.

Too motivated to die.

"We'll be fucking fine."

* * *

The next morning is painful. They limp into the shower together, half leaning, half holding each other up and they both flinch as the water hits them. James once again, sits Sirius on the couch while he limps around, his feet still slightly numb from the snow of last night and pulls on some of Sirius' clothes before he starts the task of re-bandaging Sirius' wounds.

The words are still there.

Red and angry and bleeding.

 _Blood Traitor._

James' heart stops when he sees them and Sirius closes his eyes. It hurts him. Even if he doesn't say anything, it hurts him that his family has branded him. Fuck, it probably hurts him more that they branded him than it does that they fucking crucified him James thinks and frowns.

The inner workings of Sirius' mind are twisted and sometime James wonders what that says about himself, that he can detangle Sirius' thought process. They fight a losing battle of trying to get a shirt over Sirius' head but it isn't going to happen, Sirius' shoulders are bruised and swollen and possibly dislocated and James isn't going to force it. He ends up taking a towel and draping it over Sirius before transfiguring it into shirt similar to the one he himself is wearing.

They practically pour coffee down their throats to wake themselves up and they both stand in Sirius' dirty kitchen and down shots of firewhiskey to numb the pain before walking out the door.

They have an Order Meeting to get to.

Sirius grimaces and lets out a hiss of pain as they disapperate and James reaches out and grabs onto his friend's arm to steady himself. His stomach is churning and every time he closes his eyes he sees Sirius.

Sees his best friend nailed to a tree, naked and lips blue and hair lank. Sees the blood dripping down his chest and blue tinged fingers and the angry red words craved into his chest.

Every time he closes his eyes.

Sirius flinches as James touches him but doesn't move away and digs out a cigarette and James lights it for him.

"We going to be late."

"Do you care?"

No, James thinks, no, I don't care anymore.

He waits until Sirius finished his cigarette and watches the small black mark it makes on the cement and they walk into the room together.

They pause for a second, together, as they think about God. About their modern day God and they share a glance of uncertainty but then the door swings open and all the eyes in the room refocus on Sirius. As they always do.

The Black.

The black sheep.

The pureblood boy who laughs at all the wrong things in a cold haughty way. Except he isn't laughing now.

James scowls and closes his eyes and sees Sirius, nailed to a rough cross in the middle of a frozen forest. Left to die a slow and painful death and is filled with a burning hatred. For Sirius' family and for the Death Eaters and for Dumbledore and Moody and all the people in this room who didn't know, who didn't understand Sirius. Who thought he was a traitor and a fake and just another Black. Just like all the rest.

James pulls out a chair at the table, ignoring everyone in the room, pulling the chair far away from the table and sits down as Sirius leans against the wall with a flicker of pain on his face. Letting his arm hang over the back of the chair James glances at Sirius and their gaze narrows as Dumbledore starts to talk again.

 _Same shit. Different day._

Sirius' thoughts weave seamlessly into James'.

 _Except today is a little different than yesterday._

James responds, letting his thoughts flows through to Sirius. He's still angry. Still shocked and on edge and he sees Sirius' near dead body every time he closes his eyes.

Sirius' hand brushes James' and their thoughts flood each other's mind. James can see Lily at the back of the room, can feel the glare of her green eyes but he doesn't dare make eye contact. He doesn't have time for her right now. Not now.

After the meeting is over, more useless talk of tactics and strategy and how to win the war while no one seems to realize that while they're doing all this talking they're losing the war, James stands and is about to make his way over to Remus and Peter when Dumbledore comes into his line of sight. The small half-moon glasses and brilliant blue eyes are like picks of ice and James glowers. He can feel Sirius watching him, hidden by the crowd of people, but he can feel him still, little whispers of pain in the back of his mind and he stares Dumbledore down for a brief second.

"James, I'd like to have a word in private if you wouldn't mind."

He notices that Moody is hovering just off to the side, ready to jump in at any time and James frowns, his jaw muscles working as he and Sirius remember yesterday together.

" _What you're doing is completely unacceptable Black."_

" _It's dangerous Sirius."_

" _If you don't stop this Black, you'll be fucking crucified."_

" _You can't take the war into your own hands, you can't play God."_

The world slows down for a second and Sirius' eyes flicker over to his and James knows that Sirius knows. The moment breaks and the connection breaks and time comes rushing back and Dumbledore peers at him over his half-moon glasses, examining him and James feels his stomach churn as he sees Sirius, nailed to a makeshift cross. Left to die. Branded a traitor by his own family.

" _You'll be fucking crucified."_

" _You can't play God."_

James gives the older man a tight smile.

"Sorry, I just don't have time today Professor."

"Please James, call me Albus-"

"No." The word comes out hard and fast and harsh sounding and James frowns at himself, "I really have to get going."

Playing God.

James laughs to himself as he shoves his way through the crowd. We're not playing God he thinks, you're fucking playing God and we're just your little pawns, expendable pieces on the board. Thrown out when they get too complicated. Too involved. When they start thinking for themselves.

" _You'll be fucking crucified."_

The words ring in his ears and James feels sick. Feels like he's going to throw up and he shoves his way out of the room and into Sirius' waiting arms and they stumble together across the street, as far away as they can get.

"They knew." James hisses, pain blossoming throughout his body and he can't-

"Of course they fucking knew." Sirius spits out, hard and angry and still hurt. After everything Sirius is still hurt by how people treat him. Even when he expects it, he still wants to be proven wrong, but he's only ever proven right.

James can hear Lily calling his name and he's sure Remus and Peter are back there somewhere and he can feel Dumbledore and Moody watching him. Watching them. Their retreating backs.

But he doesn't dare turn around.

No, he knows now where his loyalties lie.

* * *

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